


He Was Theirs

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe- non magic, Baby Harry, Comfort, Desi James, Fluff, M/M, established relationships - Freeform, imperialist Britain, name mispronunciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6682315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming home from a frustrating day, James Potter seeks comfort in those who love him most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Was Theirs

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kohl-lips who's had a rough go of things, so I wanted to give her something to cheer her up. Per her request-- Desi James- if the whole world can pronounce Amadeus Mozart and Tchaikovsky they can pronounce your name.

James walks into the cottage, slamming the door without really meaning to. But the day had worn him down. The meeting sat with pasty, white British faces staring at him during the meeting, listening to the English tongue failing repeatedly to pronounce his name. The weathered, wrinkled, light eyes staring at him like they expected him to _give up_ correcting them when they refused to even try getting it right.

He should be used to it by now.

How many meetings had he been sat in where this happened? How many teachers at school, or pale-skinned boys with their stupid posh accents wouldn’t even _try_. Sirius had been the first to give a shit, really. And refused to accept his mistakes until he’d got it right. Remus right along with him, of course.

Years later, when he’d fallen in love with Regulus, and it was never even a question to give that to James.

And in turn James only accepted hearing his British name on their lips because they’d earnt it. He was their Prongs. Their Jamie. Their James. Jaidev belonged to him, and he would force it upon the Imperialist culture who forced themselves upon his own people, changing his surname to Potter so many generations ago his father couldn’t even remember anymore.

Most days it didn’t bother him.

But some days, days like this when he’d been fighting and he was just _tired_ and he wanted them to be the ones to give it up instead of the other way round…

It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and the regret that he hadn’t packed up his husband, his son, and his closest friends, and moved them far away.

The door slamming startled the pair on the sofa, and James’ eyes softened at the sight of Harry balancing on Sirius’ thighs. At ten months his boy had just begun to take a few, daring steps on his own. Right now he had his chubby fists curled round Sirius’ index fingers, and he was bouncing, giggling, happy.

Reminding James that no matter how often it felt like _this_ , he had love to come home to.

Harry’s head snapped over at the sound of the door slamming, and his small pout turned into a wide grin as he let one of Sirius’ hands go. Sirius caught Harry by the waist before the boy toppled over, as he scrambled at the air crying, “Baba!”

James felt one of the many knots in his chest loosen, and he took several steps, sweeping the boy into his arms and kissing him over and over until he squirmed and giggled and cried, “Baba,” again and again.

James caught the eye of Regulus, who looked tired, his head lolled against the sofa cushion, just a foot of space between him and his brother. James shifted Harry onto his hip and turned when he heard a noise behind him, and saw Remus in the doorway to the kitchen, holding tea.

“I got your text,” Remus said, walking forward. “Got this ready for you.” He exchanged tea for baby, and nudged James leg with his knee, urging his best friend to take that foot of space between the Black brothers, which he did. Happily.

Remus settled himself on the floor between Sirius’ legs, giving Harry’s side a tickle before he let the boy go off on his own. Harry, as usual, didn’t go far from the four doting men who rarely let the baby out of their sight. He plopped down, a shufft sound from the cloth nappy, the plastic covering with planets and stars on it poking out from his little jeans.

James let out a chuckle, and leant into Regulus who turned to press a kiss to the side of James’ neck.

“You’ve got that special sort of frown on,” Regulus murmured into his ear, letting his hand run up and down the expanse of James’ ribs. “What happened? And why’d you text Moony and not me?”

“Because I knew you’d be busy with Harry,” James said, sipping his tea. He let out an oomph as Sirius shifted, then took James’ feet into his lap, pulling off the shoes. James didn’t protest when Sirius’ fingers began to knead into the arches of his feet. A moment later, Remus leant his head on the side of James’ calf, and for a moment he let himself pause in his frustration, feeling the love surrounding him. “It was just one of those days. The board meeting went on for ages and ages. And they kept calling me Jai-veev,” James said, using the mangled pronunciation. “I mean, it’s not that hard, is it?”

“No,” Regulus whispered, his voice a bit tight with his own frustrations. “No, love, it isn’t.” He kissed James softly again, and it lingered for a while before James turned his head back and nuzzled into his husband’s embrace.

Regulus shifted as Harry demanded to be picked up, his cry a bit tired now. James traded the tea back for Harry, and the boy settled, face-down, on his chest and breathed out long and slow. James often wondered what he would give to be able to fall asleep like his infant son. Just to close his eyes and have it all stop. Let the dreams come, without hesitation, without worry, without the constant pull of the waking world.

“I shouldn’t have even gotten upset,” James murmured, letting his hand drift up to card through Harry’s already thick, unruly locks. “I mean, it’s not like anything new.”

“You have every right to get upset,” Remus said quietly as he leant into Sirius’ knee.

James started to shake his head, but Sirius gave his foot a squeeze. “Remember that year in McGonagall’s class. That bitch Umbridge from the Department for Education when the school was being audited?”

James grimaced. “Right.”

“That horrid bitch tried to make a spectacle out of you,” Sirius reminded him. “And McGonagall, in front of the whole class reminded her the entire bloody white world learnt to say Tchaikovsky, so she would expect her to learn how to properly pronounce every student’s name.”

James chuckled. “She didn’t give in. Just went back to Mr Potter. But that was a good day.”

“She wasn’t wrong,” Regulus muttered, and brought his hand to bury in James’ hair, drawing him closer and closer. “You’re deserving, you know. Of the same fucking respect as every Henry and Richard, and bloody fucking William out there.”

James let his breath come in slowly, through his nose, out his mouth. The puff of it ruffled Harry’s hair, and he turned his head, letting out a small noise before settling back down, and James realised then he’d never been more content in his entire life. Ever. Right here.

His smile had lost all the tension as he met Sirius’ eyes, then Remus. Then turning slightly for a kiss before taking Regulus’ gaze into his own and conveying with the silent gesture just how fucking much he loved all of them.

“Get angry,” Remus said quietly. “Get angry and let them know it, and don’t back down. Don’t let them silence you. Demand their respect.”

“You should put that on t-shirts,” James muttered, and got the quiet laughs he was hoping for. His eyes started to feel heavy, the release of his anger bringing a state of exhaustion, and he thought maybe a kip on the sofa, his son on his chest, his head on his husband’s shoulder, was exactly what the doctor ordered. And when soft lips pressed to his temple, his eyes fluttered closed.

A quiet voice whispered, “Let go. It’s alright. We’ve got you.” He wasn’t sure which one of them said it, but it didn’t matter. It was true.

He was theirs.


End file.
